


Kintsugi

by ficmeup (HoodiesandComputers)



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017), kastle - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mentions of Maria, Normal P&V goin' on here, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, dark smut, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 07:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12206532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodiesandComputers/pseuds/ficmeup
Summary: Kintsugi (or Kintsukuroi, which means “golden repair”) is the centuries-old Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with a special lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.“Her pale skin is highlighted by the city lights, painted with faint fluorescent, a hint of red neon, and the midnight sky. It’s deathly quiet save for their harsh breathing – they’re so close that Karen can feel herself becoming a part of him.”





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first Kastle fic, so naturally it had to be smutty. :) This was written really fast, so if you spot any mistakes I'm sorry! 
> 
> Catch me on [Tumblr](punishmejon.tumblr.com) if you want!

The couch is old and scratchy, and her living room smells faintly of coffee and leftover Chinese food she routinely forgets to throw away. But in a way it’s comforting -- this is her safe place. This is her home she’s invited Frank to over and over again. And it’s where she’s currently wrapped around him on his lap, thin and cold legs tightly woven to his side, arms circled by his neck. She feels warm and excited, nervous and guilty all in one. 

Her pale skin is highlighted by the city lights, painted with faint fluorescent, a hint of red neon, and the midnight sky. It’s deathly quiet save for their harsh breathing -- they’re so close that Karen can feel herself becoming a part of him. His hands lay limply on her hips, but every few seconds she can feel his fingers clenching and unclenching, his hands inching slightly higher only to fall back down to their previous spot.

She’s still in her dress and Frank in his black shirt and pants, but she knows if she makes a move to remove any article of clothing it’ll break the spell. Instead, Karen presses her lips against his, closing her eyes but keenly aware Frank has his open.  _ One step at a time _ .

Karen didn’t expect to end her night like this -- something typically shitty happened, Frank was there to stop her from getting killed, and in the midst of her hysterical ramblings it turned into something more. But she doesn’t regret it. She doesn’t regret their nervous kisses, the messy way she fell into his lap, and how she has to coax him to touch her in the way he wants. Tonight feels like a culmination of so many things between them: respect, admiration, friendship, and perhaps even . . .

Without warning, Frank’s tongue gently touches her lip and she’s a goner. Her mouth opens up to him, her tongue curling around his while her hands touch the sides of his face. She realizes he kisses harder than she’s normally used to, but it’s direct and uniquely Frank. He stumbles through them but she likes it. It shows her he’s human, just as she is.

Pulling back, Karen breathes out against his cheek and adjusts her position before she feels Frank’s hardness underneath her. He freezes and Karen keeps still, waiting for Frank to push her off and mumble an incoherent excuse. Her heart beats thunderously beneath her chest, waiting to explode at any given moment. But seconds pass in complete silence and instead of pushing her off, Frank’s hands grip her a little tighter -- it’s all the permission she needs.

She’s a little of unsure of how to get up and take off her underwear in a normal, slightly sexy way, but there’s really nothing normal or sexy about this situation. It’s two fucked up people coming together, and it’ll either hurt them or make them stronger in the long run. But she doesn’t care right now -- all she knows is that Frank’s here with her and they’re really doing this. And it’s the best she’s felt in a long time.

Swallowing thickly, Karen leans back and clumsily gets off the couch. A gust of cold air hits her -- she’s already missing Frank’s touch and warmth. She takes in a deep breath and assess the man in front of her, unsure of what the sight would make her feel. He’s sitting on the couch, his hardness peeking out and he’s breathing heavily.

Karen’s gaze finally lands on Frank’s eyes and she’s not prepared for the sight. His eyes are ever vigilant but soft at the same time, and he's staring straight at her like she’s single handedly responsible for making him human again. But it’s not all due to her -- it’s because he’s genuinely tried to remember his past, to accept that he can be Frank Castle  _ and _ The Punisher. That being human means it’s multifaceted and never easy. And sometimes, with the right people, life can be a little more bearable.

Nervous all over again, Karen keeps a trained eye on Frank as her hands slowly lift her dress and reach for her underwear. She sees his Adam’s apple bob, and for the first time Karen realizes the gravity of the situation. Things are going to be different between them, whether for better or worse. But  _ God _ , she’s wanted this in various ways for so long. Karen’s wanted to be his confidant, his partner, and even simply a friend who meets for coffee. She’s got them all except for  _ this _ . And now, she has  _ this _ too.

She finally hooks her fingers on her waistband and pulls down her underwear, not at all worried if she looks hot or a number of other things she would normally be thinking about. Frank doesn’t need or want that, and neither does she. This is about them.

Once Karen’s removed her underwear, she immediately goes back to her original spot on Frank’s lap, desire causing her head to spin and blood to heat her skin. This time Frank’s a little less timid -- he goes straight in for an open mouthed, toe-curling kiss, while his arms wrap around Karen’s body like he’s done this a thousand times already. She immediately makes work of his belt, the buckle loudly jingling in the confines of her pathetic apartment. Once Karen’s unzipped his pants her hands go around to Frank’s waist, but their fervor comes to a halt.

They’re breathing harshly all over again, but Karen has a suspicion if she doesn’t make the next move they’ll spend the whole night like this: frozen and unwilling to take the next step. Glancing at him, Karen silently asks his permission, praying he’ll allow them this one moment of peace. She  _ needs _ this.

He doesn’t say anything but continues to gaze into her eyes, open and vulnerable in a way she hasn’t seen before. Tonight, she feels responsible for showing Frank he’s not alone in the world, that he has her. And she has him.

Never breaking eye contact, Karen begins to tug on his pants while Frank slightly lifts his bum off the couch. She soon realizes he’s not wearing any underwear, and the information makes her smile -- she didn’t expect him to run around commando. It’ll go on her list of Things Only Karen Page Knows About Frank Castle.

His cock is now freed from the confines of his pants, and a shot of desire hits her once she sees that he’s a pretty decent size. But then Karen realizes a little too late she doesn’t have a condom with her, and now she’s feeling incredibly stupid. She’s been on the pill for years and hasn’t slept with anyone in a very  _ long _ time, but she doesn’t know how Frank would feel about the situation.

“I -- I don’t have --”

Her voice cracks and she clears her throat, embarrassed she doesn’t have a backup condom. They’re  _ so _ close -- she’s shaking from an overflow of adrenaline. Karen needs to be with him and she honestly doesn’t know if she can handle  _ not _ sleeping with him tonight. It’s the most alive she’s felt in ages, and she doesn’t want to let the feeling go.

Frank shifts underneath her, but if anything he pulls her closer. “It’s -- it’s -- I haven’t -- I don’t --”

His voice is just as hoarse as hers, but she understands what he means: no, he hasn’t had sex with anyone since Maria, and no, he doesn’t care if there’s not a condom.

Beyond grateful, Karen grabs him for an intense and passionate kiss as she inches closer and closer. Needing room to breathe, Karen pulls back and grabs his cock, positioning it right where she wants Frank. She’s keenly aware of Frank shaking slightly, and Karen’s own heart beats so loud she’s positive he can hear it.

This is it.

Slowly, she sinks down on him and her breath immediately catches in her throat -- Frank’s larger than she anticipated, but it’s more than that. She doesn’t want this to be a quick fuck. She wants to hold him for as long as she can, to show him she’s never going to let go. Not after everything they’ve gone through, not after all the sacrifices they’ve made. He makes her feel uninhibited, strong, vulnerable, crazy yet sane . . .  _ whole _ .

Circling her arms around his shoulders, Karen gazes at Frank and marvels at him -- she watches his eyes flicker in nervousness before settling in on acceptance, she notices how the light plays with the shadows on his nose, and she sees a hint of green in his eyes. Every part of him is so beautiful, even the darkest corners of his mind. It’s what makes Frank.

Taking a deep breath, Karen starts to move as she watches Frank every second, silently taking note of what he does or doesn’t enjoy. His hands are moving disjointedly across her back, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, like he’s trying to do everything all at once. It makes her smile, and for the briefest moment, hint of a grin forms on his lips. But she sees his true smile in his eyes. They’re shining, black with lust, and the corners have crinkled up just like whenever she complains about work, or make a joke, or calls him out on his bullshit.

They’ve built up a slow and steady rhythm, wrapped up together in the confines of their personal piece of torture and heaven. A low and simmering fire forms in the pit of her stomach -- she’s wearing too many clothes, but every second of this feels absolutely perfect that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Resting her forehead against his, Karen lets the moment consume her. She’s not thinking about how this will change their fragile relationship, or if it'll be awkward between them once this is over. She never imagined anything going beyond late night coffee runs, or Karen crying into his shoulder, or worse, getting caught up in a midst of fire and gunshots. But they are here  _ now _ , together, and it's all she could ever ask for at this moment.

Keeping a trained eye on her, Frank’s breathing speeds up and his hands have stopped moving. His strong arms hold her tight, enveloping her in his protection. It's the safest and most loved she's felt her entire life, and she can feel her heart bursting at the seams with reckless abandon.

He seems to be getting close. His breathing is shallow and they’ve lost the rhythm they had before. His face is buried in the crook of her neck, arms still holding her like she’s the only person left standing in the world. Karen catches her reflection on the window, and she’s not prepared for the sight -- her skin is flushed with pieces of hair stuck on her forehead, lips parted, and Frank’s got himself completely wrapped inside of her. 

It’s the single most erotic and lovest thing she’s ever witnessed, and unable to control the emotions spiraling in her, Karen pulls Frank in for a deep and smothering kiss. She kisses him with no finesse but with passion and an intensity she didn’t know she possessed. Karen wants to tell him so many things, but in this moment she wants to hold him awhile longer and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.

Frank soon comes with a low groan, the sound almost causing her to come right then and there. Normally it would be a cause of concern but tonight it’s different. It’s certainly a welcome change. Karen continues to ride him out as he feels the last remnants of his orgasm; she doesn’t care that she didn’t come, because statistics and experience have taught her otherwise. But more importantly, this is the first time Frank’s been with anyone since Maria’s death, and the fact that he’s opened up to her in this way feels like a privilege.

Leaning slightly back, Karen places her hands on the sides of Frank’s face, his sweat coating her palms while his stubble scratches her skin. His chest rises and falls without the steadiness she’s used to seeing; she honestly doesn’t know what to say. Glancing up at him, Karen immediately notices a million emotions clouding his face: happiness tainted with guilt, confusion, and self-loathing.

Panic begins to set in her bones -- there’s no way she’s going to let Frank run away like this, not after opening up to him in a way she hasn’t done with anyone. He’s not the only one suffering from their past and their actions. They need to have each other, because spending every minute of your life alone with your demons isn’t living. It’s just surviving.

“We’re not alone.” And she means it.

Karen thinks back to the diner a year ago, back to when she was first getting to know him. He told her true love was supposed to hurt. She had scoffed at the idea -- love wasn't supposed to make her feel disappointed or like an afterthought. But she finally understands. Loving someone is supposed to be unbearable, because the thought of losing them would be absolute agony.

And God, it hurts to be near Frank. It hurts when he thinks himself as a monster, it hurts when he disappears for weeks and months on end, and it hurts when he pushes her away. But it hurts worse when he’s not there to make her smile, when he’s missing on their scheduled coffee meet ups, and when he’s not sitting outside the fire escape waiting to be let in and discuss whatever’s on Karen’s mind.

She can  _ finally _ admit to herself that she loves him.

What they have . . . she never wants to let it go. She knows they’ve been broken into a million little pieces over the years, and she doesn’t expect Frank to solely patch her up. Karen Page will never be the person she was, and that’s okay. But  _ this _ Karen sees the world differently, and  _ this _ Karen loves its messiness despite everything. Her experiences -- good and bad -- have shaped her into the person she didn’t know was capable of existing.

Things won’t be perfect. But in this moment, it  _ is _ .


End file.
